


Metal destiny

by No_stop_you_dont_understand



Series: Sans/reader noodlets [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: And fluff will ensue, Angst, Cutting, Depression, F/M, Fluff, He will help you rise out of depression, Sadness, Sans can make it better tho, Slavery, Sobbing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, caste system, im so sorry, just read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 20:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8682718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/No_stop_you_dont_understand/pseuds/No_stop_you_dont_understand
Summary: An AU where everyone's happiness literally determines how far they get in life.
Babies are born with special pieces of metal on their hands that determine their destiny.
You were an anomaly, born the happiest a person could be. Your parents were proud, until somehow you changed.
Your life went downhill from there, until you end up as an orphaned slave.
Then, when you think it can't get any worse, monsters appear out of nowhere.





	1. Prologue

Everyone had hand plates. They were normal. You were born with two blank little metal plates bolted to the backs of your hands. Everyone's plates were blank until they had lived their first full day.

Then their number was chosen. The number that appeared on your hands was based on how happy you were. It could change if you were depressed, or if someone died, but normally it stayed within ten above or below your original number.

The numbers ranged from one-the saddest most unhappy a person could be- to 100-the absolute happiest a person could be.

There were handfuls of below 30's here and there, along with a group of over 80's now and then, but mostly 40-60's were what was common. 

Most people chose to associate with their own number group. Those below 40 were thought to be lesser as people than those with higher numbers.

Rich, higher class people were those with 80's and above.

Below 10's were often sold into slavery.

The rigid caste system that it was only served to make numbers worse. 

Rich people got higher and higher numbers every generation.

Slaves got lower and lower numbers very quickly, and whenever a below 5 happened, they were publicly executed.

No one ever married outside their number group.

It was socially unacceptable, and dirty.

To marry any further than ten below or above your number was wrong, and if you even associated with the lower class other than using them as slaves or having them work retail, you were cast out.

There were almost no 1's. They were practically unheard of because of the executions.

Even fewer cases of 100's were ever recorded, though. 

You were one of the few. 

When you were a baby you were a 100.

A phenomenon.

__

Your parents were both in the 80's, your mom was an 84, and your dad an 86.

They were ecstatic to have a special baby.

Reporters and news stations came to interview your parents, and spoke even just filmed you crawling around for hours.

But then your number began to drop.

First it was just by .5 every year, but by the time you were three years old, it was dropping .5 every month.

You were a 97, and quickly dropping.

Your parents called in special doctors, who they swore to secrecy.

They spent thousands of dollars to try to find out what was wrong with their special baby girl.

But no one could find out what was wrong with you, no matter what they tried.

__

By the time you were six, you were a 50.

To the news, you were suddenly unimportant and uninteresting.

Your parents actually began to look for ways to put you up for adoption, often leaving you alone with your abusive nanny four weeks at a time.

__

Then one day...

...One day they didn't come home...

...They had died in a car accident...

__

You were an eight year old orphan with a 20 as your number.

__

Your nanny took over the papers and insurance work surrounding your parents' death and fortune.

They left everything to her, and nothing for you.

There were instructions to sell you into slavery if they happened to die.

__

So at the age of eight, wondering why your parents didn't love you, and growing more depressed every passing hour, you were sold into slavery.

__

A small farm on the side of a mountain bought you, and there you lived for most of your life.

__

You had taken to wearing long sleeved shirts, and found that no one cared if you cut, so you did.

You continued to wear long sleeves, but only to hide your hand plates.

You constantly feared discovery, as you had been below a 5 for a long time.

__

As your eighteenth birthday neared, you reached a number no one even knew possible.

You were a zero.

In the space of eighteen years, you had gone from 100 to 0.

__

Then the monsters poured out of the mountain next to the farm you worked on, and everything changed.


	2. Sneak peek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N

Heyhey peoples!!!

I can't post the update I wanted to today, (I'm not at home, so I don't have access to the Word Doc) but I did make this in MS paint earlier while I was bored, and emailed it to myself.

So here's a sneak peek for a few chapters into the future!

http://68.media.tumblr.com/51ae4764b96479ac66f062f54ed67254/tumblr_oiz8obE5jn1vedp6co1_1280.png


	3. A flash of yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet an old friend of yours, and there's some strange stuff going on between you two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. This chapter kinda got away from me.

 

You leaned heavily on the well you were supposed to be retrieving water from.

The Mistress’s laundry needed washing, and the kitchen was out of water for cooking, so you’d been drafted to hike up the winding stone path that lead to the old well.

Since the mossy brick well was far from both the big farm house and the fields, it was peaceful and serene.

You appreciated the tranquility as much as the next guy, but _damn, hiking was not for the faint of heart._

Hearing light and melodic laughter, you looked up into the amber eyes of your friend Diana.

Oh yeah, Diana. You probably want to hear about how you two know each other, don’t you?

 

Well, Diana was the closest thing you had to family.

You’d known her for three years, ever since her previous owner, Samuel Worn, had lost a game of poker, and consequently his farm, to Lord Len. 

Lord Len was a Duke. He owned the farm you lived on, along with a large estate, and the lecherous freak had decided to keep his favorite slaves on the farm closest to his estate, New Hijun farm.

Lord Len was not kind to his favorite slaves. 

Or, as he put it, he was too kind to them.

It was rumored that young girls from New Hijun would often go missing for weeks, or even months at a time, only to come back bloodied and beaten with pregnant bellies.

Lord Len’s wife, Lady Jane, was often bitter and angry with her fat greasy husband, and took it out on the few slaves of New Hijun that had escaped Lord Lin’s ‘kind’ treatment.

Luckily for you and Diana, neither of you were in his group of favorites, and got to stay on Lord Len’s Mountain West farm.

Unluckily for you and Diana, the old hag who managed Mountain West was Lord Len’s mother, a sour faced woman known as Mistress Nell.

You’d think from how the two women of Lord Len’s house acted, they’d be low numbers themselves, but no. The entire Len Duchy was in the low nineties.

You and Diana had bonded like any other fifteen year olds would. Over manual labor and a mutual hatred of Mistress Nell. You both affectionately called Mistress Nell Mistress Hell.

But Diana also didn’t know what your number was, and that you’d been cutting.

What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

Right?

 

“Hey, (Y/N). I was wondering when you’d get here.” Diana said once she was done laughing.

“Well, I did stop to dance with some fairies.” You answered her pretty flatly as you glared at her for making fun of you.

“I am never gonna live that one down, am I?” She groaned.

You gave her your best shit eating grin.

“Nope!” 

“Geeze. You eat some weird mushrooms one time, and then suddenly no one will stop talking about how you danced with some fairies.” Diana muttered playfully under her breath as you giggled.

“Well, if we’re done pokin’ fun at each other, I’ve got something I actually want to talk about.”

“Yeah? What is it, Di?” You asked, calling her by her least favorite nickname.

“Don’t call me that. I wanted to know if you’ve heard the big news yet.”

“Yup. Heard Mistress Hell screeching about it this morning. Something about ‘Big tall terrible monsters pouring out of her poor wittle Len’s special mountain’. What about it?” You looked at her curiously.

“I heard that they don’t divide by their numbers. And they want to be a part of human society!” She picked up a bucket of water from next to the well.

“Really?” She nodded. “They must actually be decent people if they don’t have the caste system that humans do.”

“That’s what’s so cool about them! From what I heard, they really do care about each other!” Diana was smiling as she lowered her bucket into the well.

Your brow furrowed, “But why should we care? It’s not like we could actually ever interact with any of them unless they become slaves on this stupid farm like us.” You picked up the other bucket and hoisted it into the well. It made a quiet thunk as it hit Diana’s bucket before they both splashed into the water.

“But don’t you see, (Y/N)? We could get out of here! If they actually get integrated into society, they could change the caste system! We could actually get free! (Y/N), we actually have a chance at life now!” Her eyes were bright with hope, and her muscles worked as she hefted the now full bucket out of the well.

“Psshht. Like that’ll ever happen.” You rolled your eyes at her.

“What? Of course it will! We just have to have hope and stay determined!” Her voice was fierce.

“Don’t be stupid, Diana. Even if they did somehow manage to become accepted at all, there’s no way the caste will change. And if they did the impossible and seriously impacted this stupid ‘happiness number’ shit, there’s no way in hell that they’ll choose us of all people to save. It’s a ridiculous idea and you know it.” You heaved the now full bucket of water onto the lip of the well. Your eyes were stone, and your heart was heavy.

It took you a few seconds to find a way to carry the bucket without bruising your hands.

“(Y/N)! What happened to our plan to get out of here and ‘start the best damned bakery Ebott has ever seen’? Besides,” She quickly glanced around as if she was worried someone would overhear her, despite the fact that you were at the most private place on the farm.

“If you do have hope, your number might raise,” She whispered with a conspiratorial smile, “Mine did.” she lifted the edge of her flowing sleeves to show you her handplate. 

The silvery metal contrasted beautifully with her dark skin, but that wasn’t what caught your attention.

Her number had changed. 

She was an eight.

She was right to have hope, if anyone could get out soon, it’d be her. As soon as she hit a ten, she could begin to save up and buy her own freedom.

She was so close to her happiness.

You’re gaze softened as you momentarily allowed yourself to imagine the bakery you’d dreamt of opening with her when you were both fifteen--before you remembered the one thing that had made you give up your dreams on your eighteenth birthday.

There was no way a zero could make it in this world. Not even with an eight whose hope knew no bounds.

“That’s great, Diana. I’m glad that at least one of us has a chance to get out of this hellhole.” You tried to sound genuine--you were happy for her--but your voice held only bitterness.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay? I know you normally pretend you don’t have feelings, but even you’re never this cold.” She placed a warm calloused hand on your shoulder.

You jerked away, and began to walk quickly down the mountain path to the farmhouse.

“I’m **fine,** Diana. I’m just really happy for you.” You said, your voice wavering and your breathing labored as you walked. 

You were glad she was behind you. 

You didn’t want her to see the tears you were fighting to hold back.

“No, (Y/N), you’re _not_ fine! I’ve known you for years, I know when you’re hurting. Please just tell me what’s wrong! It’s not like you to be like this. You’ve been cold ever since your birthday. What happened to you?” Her voice held nothing but genuine concern for your wellbeing.

Your heart sank, and your feet were leaden. 

You paused, and whipped around to face her.

Her eyes widened at your watery eyes and tear streaked face.

“I can’t tell you. I can’t let you try to help me. You’ll only get hurt.” You were openly sobbing now. “Diana, I can’t lose you. You don’t know how lost I’d be without you.”

“(Y/N)... I can help you… Just let me…” She’d begun to tear up as well. “...Show me your handplates (Y/N).”

“No, Diana! I will not let you suffer for me!” You spun on your heel, and began to sprint down the mountain, uncaring of the water sloshing out of your bucket with every step.

Diana threw her own bucket off to the side, and took off after you. She didn’t think about how she’d be punished for returning without the water. Her only thought was stopping you from doing something stupid.

  
There was a flash of yellow behind her, and a childish giggle rang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops?  
> Why will it hurt Diana to help you? What was that flash of yellow? Why does it seem like people can be sad or happy outside of their number? Why did you want to open up a bakery--of all places?  
> Well, there's some stuff that I'll hopefully clear up soon.  
> Bye!  
> (Check me out on tumblr if you want..... my username is No_stop_you_dont_understand)


End file.
